


Till It Be Morrow

by Sarahtoo



Series: Phrack Fucking Friday [8]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Fire_Sign keeps breaking them, Fix-It, Phrack Fucking Friday, Reunion Sex, We all have to do our part, pff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-25 20:08:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10771527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarahtoo/pseuds/Sarahtoo
Summary: A follow-on to Fire_Sign’sSuch Sweet Sorrow. In that story, although Jack followed Phryne to England, she realized that she’d have to stay, and they separated. Both agreed that it was the right thing to do in that moment, as much as they hated it. So Jack went home to Melbourne, leaving her behind in England. (If you haven’t read that story, you should—it’s sooo sad, but soooo gorgeous. Go ahead. I’ll wait.)I couldn’t leave it there, so here is a continuation. I promise, it ends happily.





	Till It Be Morrow

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Such Sweet Sorrow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9927851) by [Fire_Sign](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Sign/pseuds/Fire_Sign). 



_March 13, 1930_

_Dear Phryne,_

_The trip home was remarkably uneventful. I think I was expecting there to be a crime of some sort, but instead I had to content myself with borrowing from the ship’s library. Apparently, whoever stocks it is a fan of Mrs. Christie’s books; all five were stocked there, along with a half-dozen Zane Greys, including one that I hadn’t yet had a chance to read. None of them are a real substitute for your company, but they helped to pass the time. At least I can write now that I’m back in Melbourne. I do want to keep our friendship alive, even if our romance was not to be._

_I hope that your takeover of your father’s business dealings is going smoothly. Has the baron regained his senses as yet? Mac says that apoplexy victims sometimes can. (That is not what she called it, but as I am a humble police officer and not a doctor, I can’t be bothered to remember the medical terminology. Besides, it frustrates her that I don’t, and we need to keep her on her toes.)_

_Whatever the outcome of his recovery, I have every faith that you will handle it perfectly. I wish you the very best, and I hope that someday, you may find your way home again._

_Ever your friend,  
Jack_

~~~

_April 2, 1930_

_Dear Jack,_

_I’m so glad that you’re writing to me—I would hate to think that our ill-fated romance had damaged our friendship. Just knowing that you and my Melbourne family are in the world and thinking well of me is enough to help me through these difficult times._

_My father is recovering, but slowly. I have managed to convince his solicitor that I can act in his absence, and we are working diligently to shore up the estate’s finances. There may be a possibility of breaking the entail, as well, though I’m not pinning my hopes on that. Best case, we’re finding ways to create an income that is separate from the entailed properties so that if my father dies, my mother will have something to fall back on._

_How is everything around Melbourne, and at City South? Are the criminals being as criminal as they were when I was there? If you need any help with a case, I’m only a telegram away._

_Your friend,  
Phryne_

~~~

_April 22, 1930_

_Dear Phryne,_

_Melbourne’s criminals seem to be reveling in your absence, certain that the poor efforts of the Victoria Police will not be equal to their activities. Thankfully, my constables and I have so far managed to keep them in line, likely due to your excellent training._

_Your family is doing well; I assume that Mrs. Collins has told you her happy news already—Hugh is both over the moon and terrified of becoming a father. The two of them are taking good care of your house, and Mr. Butler seems content with them, though I understand that your aunt is attempting to lure him away to her employ. Have you seen Jane, now that the two of you are so much closer? Is she enjoying Paris?_

_I hope that you have made progress on your father’s estate—I didn’t realize that breaking the entail was even a possibility. If you succeed, would that mean that the barony would come to you? Once again, I’m not sure what to hope for. I know you well enough to realize that if you became the baroness, you’d feel obligated to stay in England, and I’ll admit that I still have a germ of hope that you’ll eventually finish there and come back to Melbourne._

_You told me not to wait for you, and I have been trying. I went to the theater with a friend of a friend, and though she was a lovely young woman, all I could think of was that she wasn’t you. I hope that you’re having better luck in that department. I would hate to think that you were alone._

_Best,  
Jack_

~~~

_May 20, 1930_

_Dear Jack,_

_I’m sorry that it’s taken me so long to respond to your letter. The work that father’s solicitor and I have been doing to shore up the estate has been sorely tested in the last weeks, with the effects of the American stock market crash rippling through the world markets. Thankfully, it seems we managed to safeguard enough funding to protect the estate and its tenants, but it did seem like a near thing. The work on my parents’ finances continues, and although we have drafted a case to break the entail, I am hesitant to even file it. I still don’t think it would be successful, and besides, the idea of living in England for the rest of my life is depressing._

_The only good thing about it is that I am so much closer to Jane. She will be here on holiday through June and July; the new term at her university starts in September, and we’ve talked about spending the month of August traveling around Europe, assuming that I can get away. I will be sure to let you know my direction when our plans solidify._

_You said that you hoped I’d had luck in finding company here, but to be honest, I miss Melbourne, and the sun, and my house and friends. And you, Jack. I have done my best not to wallow, but it seems that there are no men in England who can compare to a not-so-simple detective inspector from the Antipodes. I still have no desire for you to come to resent me, however, and so the reason that we are apart should stand. And I want you to be happy, so if you do find a woman whose presence makes you light up, I hope that you will follow your heart. Whatever comes, I wish only the very best for you._

_Give my love to my family; I will write to them all, but I like to think that you have a reason to spend time at Wardlow._

_Thinking of you,  
Phryne_

~~~

_June 13, 1930_

_Dear Phryne,_

_Something has come up, and I need you to be brutally honest with me. Is your concern about me being in England only that I would have nothing to do but be your accessory? I ask because I have been in touch with my friend Martin at Scotland Yard, and he says that if I were to come to London, there would be a job for me._

_I do not want to presume on your affection—I would not want you to come to resent my presence there any more than you want me to resent yours. Is this something I should pursue, or shall I stay here in Melbourne? The choice is yours._

_Also yours,  
Jack_

_PS Your family sends their love._

~~~

Telegram, June 27, 1930

PLEASE COME -STOP- P

* * *

_August 20, 1930_

Jack stood at the railing of the _Persephone_ and looked out as the ship worked its way slowly into the dock at Southampton. Both hands gripping the rail, he scanned the dock for a certain raven-haired woman. He still couldn’t believe he’d made this happen. His friend Martin had secured him a position at Scotland Yard, and although his chief commissioner in Victoria—a man named Franklin who seemed to be torn between admiration and resentment when it came to Jack—had not been pleased when he’d handed in his notice, he’d taken it with surprisingly good grace. He’d also said that, should Jack find his way back to Melbourne someday, there’d be a position on the Victoria Police Force for him.

If Jack was honest with himself, he was a little terrified. This felt like a bigger risk than just about anything he’d done in his life. Not solely because of Phryne, though she was part of it—she was so much more than he’d ever hoped for, and the fact that she wanted him made him want to move heaven and earth to be by her side. But working in London would be very different to Melbourne, he suspected, and though he knew that his references had been stellar, he’d have to prove his worth to the men here, especially because he’d be coming in at the senior detective inspector rank. It would take time, and plenty of effort, but he hoped to find a place among these English lawmen.

Worst case, however, he was sure of his place with Phryne. With her by his side, he thought that he could bear just about anything.

As the ship’s passengers crowded toward the gangplank, waiting impatiently for their turn to descend to the dock, and the crew busily offloaded the luggage at the other end of the ship, Jack scanned the crowd again. He was just beginning to worry when he saw her, standing on the running board of a black cab, one arm wrapped around the doorframe and the other waving energetically. Her coat was a brilliant scarlet, and even at this distance, he could see her grin. He felt his lips stretch into what was probably the widest smile he’d worn since he’d left England in February. Raising an arm, he waved back and saw her touch her hand to her lips then fling it toward him; he clasped his hand in the air as if to catch her kiss and brought his fist down to his chest, pressing it against his heart.

He watched as she ducked her head inside the cab, then jumped lightly down, making her way through the throngs of people to get closer. Jack, who at any other time would have given way to almost anyone else, found that he couldn’t wait any longer; he began to work his way toward the gangplank, murmuring apologies but not stopping in his forward motion. 

Even with both of them moving, it took ten minutes—ten excruciatingly long minutes—for him to get to the top of the gangplank, and another ten to descend to the dock. Each person in front of him seemed to be met by a swarm of greeters, clogging the way. He kept his eyes on Phryne as he did his best to be patient; her smile never faltered, though each time she had to stop, he saw her shift her weight from foot to foot, her teeth gripping occasionally at her bottom lip. 

Each time he saw an opening in the crowd, he squeezed through it, angling his body to fit through spaces in the teeming masses that he would never have attempted before. When he finally stood before her, it was as if the people around them disappeared, and there was only Phryne and Jack.

“Hello, Jack,” she said, her eyes bright.

“Miss Fisher,” he responded, his voice low and rough. With a shake of his head, he took one final step closer, one arm reaching for her waist to draw her close, and the other sliding into her hair to cradle the back of her head.

“I thought you’d never get here,” she whispered, her hands slipping around his waist, under his overcoat and jacket, to press against his shoulder blades.

“I couldn’t stay away,” he admitted, and then he touched his lips to hers, softly at first, an echo of their hellos. Once, twice, three times he brushed his lips against hers, holding her gaze as he did so. 

She blinked, her eyes dropping slowly closed, then opening halfway again.

“Jack,” she breathed, and he laid his forehead against hers. 

“I’m afraid that if I kiss you like I want to, we’ll cause a scandal.” His eyes met hers again, and his thumb rubbed gently across her cheekbone. 

Phryne’s hands dropped to his waist and she leaned in to brush her mouth over his once more, sipping at his upper lip. He caught her lower lip between his teeth, his tongue coming out to taste the waxy shine of her lipstick. She whimpered lightly as she pulled away.

“Let’s find your luggage, Jack.” He felt her fingers dig into the muscles on either side of his spine. “I’ve taken a room here in town for tonight—I knew that I wouldn’t want to wait to welcome you properly.” Her smile was wicked, and he answered it with a nod and a smirk of his own.

Lifting his head, he took a step back and turned to where the luggage had been piled up on the dock. With a glance at her, he bent his arm and she slid her hand around his bicep. Leaning in, he pressed a kiss to her hair, and she momentarily rested her head against his shoulder before tugging him toward the stack of trunks and cases.

Forty-five minutes later, they’d been shown to a suite at a local hotel, Jack’s trunks stacked neatly in one corner with Phryne’s overnight bag. The hotel staff had offered to unpack for them, but Phryne had put them off with a gracious smile and a generous tip. 

When she’d closed the door behind the porter, she turned to Jack. He had removed his coat—his hat was likely packed in a trunk to keep the sea breeze from stealing it—and was shrugging out of his jacket. Phryne slid her own coat off, the loose skirt of her gauzy dress floating in her wake as she laid her coat over the arm of the sofa and moved toward him. Jack’s hands on his cuffs slowed as he watched her approach.

“You are more beautiful than ever,” he murmured, tucking his cufflinks into his trouser pocket and stepping close to meet her halfway. Her dress was made up of two layers, the red-and-blue striped overdress flowing gently over the deep blue underdress with its thin straps; Jack’s eyes devoured her. “I’d almost forgotten just how beautiful—or maybe I thought I’d exaggerated it.”

He set his hands on her shoulders, feeling the warmth of her body through the thin fabric, and Phryne laid her hands on his chest. 

“I’m real, Jack,” she whispered, her fingers working the buttons of his waistcoat. “I can’t believe you’re _here_. I was afraid that something would go wrong, that I’d wake up and your letter would have been a dream.”

“I’m here.” He stroked a hand over her hair, then cupped her jaw. His hands were shaking slightly, and he laughed a little. “I’m really here.”

Leaning in, Jack pressed his lips to hers, his tongue sliding warmly into her open mouth. Phryne’s hands, having unbuttoned both his waistcoat and his shirt, slid up to his shoulders, one hand cupping the back of his neck. He pulled her closer, his fingers searching for the hooks down the side of her dress even as heat flashed between them. Phryne moaned, stepping closer to press herself against him, the ridge of his cock rising hard and straight between their bodies as they kissed the way both of them had wanted to from the moment they parted six months earlier.

Jack’s hand slid into her unfastened bodice to cup her breast, and he groaned at the feeling of her hardened nipple against his palm. Phryne pushed her fingers through the short, soft hair at his nape to get to the longer strands at the back of his head, where her fingers fisted; she pushed her leg in between his to get closer, his hard thigh pressing against her sensitive flesh.

“I missed you.” 

“I want you.” 

Neither of them was sure who said what, but both sentiments rang true. Breathing heavily, they stood for a moment, foreheads touching, each stroking the other gently, before taking a step backward. They undressed in silence, watching each other, the tension seeming to grow as each article of clothing was discarded. Piece after piece, they stripped in tandem—dress and shirt, heels and loafers, silk stockings and socks, underdress and trousers—until they wore nothing but their own skin. Breathing heavily, they took the step that separated them, hands meeting in the space between. Their fingers twined together as they moved toward the bed.

Phryne leaned over to draw down the coverlet and sheets with her free hand, and Jack watched, entranced by the sunlight on her skin and the sway of her breasts. When she stood again, he gathered her close, his lips covering hers. Phryne stretched to press herself against him, her mouth opening and her tongue sliding against his. Jack shuddered lightly at the sensation of her skin—all of her skin—against his.

“I want my mouth on you,” he murmured, stepping carefully into her to urge her down to the bed.

“What luck,” she teased quietly, her breath uneven. “I want your mouth on me too.” 

Her smile was a flash of white and Jack’s echoed it as she scooted backward to prop her elbows behind her. Jack tilted his head as he began to bend his knees, nudging his way between her spread thighs. 

“Wait, Jack,” Phryne said, reaching one hand out to him. Jack paused, his hands on her knees. “Come up here so that I can put my mouth on you, too.”

She could hear the clicking of his throat as he swallowed at the thought, and then he was climbing onto the bed beside her, his cock dangling stiffly beneath his flat stomach. Phryne turned, stroking a hand up his leg as he positioned himself, feather-light touches that he felt in his belly and balls. She wrapped her hand around him as he settled beside her, and Jack’s breath caught.

“I’d forgotten,” she whispered, nuzzling her nose against his thigh and into the crease where his leg met his pelvis, “what you smelled like.” Her lips brushed against his shaft, and he could both hear and feel her words. “You smell so good, Jack.” Her tongue came out to swirl around the broad head of him, bathing him in warmth and wetness. 

“I hadn’t forgotten your scent, Phryne,” he responded, even as he sucked a breath through his teeth at the sensation. “Your scent, your taste, the feel of your skin—I couldn’t forget you.” He stroked his lips along her inner thigh, inhaling deeply, before sliding his tongue between her nether lips to taste the moisture that was already gathering there.

“Did you try, Jack?” The question was breathless, and she followed it with a sweep of her tongue down his shaft, ending by sucking the skin of his scrotum between her lips.

“Not as hard as I could have.” With that, he applied himself to her pleasure, hooking a hand around her upper thigh to pull her leg over his shoulder. Phryne moaned as she sucked his length into her mouth, her tongue working at his skin. 

Jack closed his eyes, concentrating on the scent and the taste of her, the texture of each layer of her most intimate flesh. He could feel what she was doing, too—the slide of her mouth and tongue and lips against his cock, his balls, the tender skin at the top of his thighs—but it was not his focus. Instead, he listened to the noises she made, both in her enjoyment of what she was doing and as he worked to bring her to climax. This was what he’d been missing—being surrounded by her, with her laughing eyes and her sharp wits, her warmth and her joy and her love. 

She didn’t say the words, but he knew that she loved him. It was in the way she said his name, the way she teased him, even in the way she’d sent him away. She’d been right—as much as he loved her, if he’d tried to build a life with only her in it, he would not have been the man she fell in love with. So as much work as finding a place for himself in Scotland Yard would be, he would do it happily just to be here, with her.

He felt her begin to shudder with release, and he thanked whatever god might be listening, because he had managed to hold off his own climax, though his cock ached with pleasure and his balls felt like stone. She cried out, her voice rippling along his length as her body shook. Gently, Jack withdrew the fingers he’d slipped inside her; he moaned as she sped up the rhythm of her head and the suction against his tip. He was no longer distracted from what she was doing, and he was very close to orgasm. Suddenly, he didn’t want to come this way—he wanted to see her eyes.

“God, Phryne,” he said, panting, pulling his hips back. Her hands clenched, holding him to her as she continued to suck him. “Phryne, I want… shit.” The curse word was a prayer, released as she did something to the underside of his cock with her tongue. If she didn’t stop soon, he wouldn’t be able to.

He twisted to sit up, reaching for her hands. She pulled back, his cock falling away from swollen lips, her half-closed eyes blurry with pleasure.

“Phryne,” he murmured. 

The soft whimper she made when he pulled away turned into a hum of pleasure when he turned to cover her mouth with his, settling himself between her thighs. Realizing what it was he wanted, she bent her knees, making room for her hips to cradle his and running her hands up his back. He planted his hands beside her shoulders and pushed himself up, holding her eyes. The motion pressed his groin to hers, and she arched into the contact.

“Jack.” His name was no more than breath, and it was the sweetest sound he had ever heard.

“I love you,” he murmured, pushing against her. 

He’d said it before—she surely knew it to be true—but he watched as the words rained down over her. She smiled, tremulous but wide, and slid a hand around to his chest then down across his belly to find his cock and position it at her entrance. Neither of them looked away as he sank inside her body, and they both gasped when he was buried to the hilt.

Phryne wrapped her arms around him and pulled him down onto her. She could feel him inside her body, long and hard, and the weight of him and the warmth of his skin; the sensation of rightness was impossible to deny. Her mouth found his as they lay together, unmoving. She kissed him, her tongue forceful against his as she locked her arms and legs around him, wanting him as close as possible. He kissed her back, his big hands sliding beneath her shoulders and into her hair, his fingers angling her head so that he could deepen the kiss even more.

After long moments, Jack broke the kiss, lifting his head just a little to watch her eyes as he flexed his hips, pulling himself out only to sink deeply again. He dropped a tiny kiss to her lips as he did it again, and Phryne sighed against his mouth.

“Welcome home, my darling Jack.” She slid her hands up into his hair, loving the way the curls wrapped around her fingers.

He knew exactly what she meant, though they lay in a hotel in a city they’d never explored together, rather than in London, where they’d spent their glorious months as lovers. It didn’t matter where in the world they were—where he was now, deep inside her body, wrapped in her arms, was his home. She was home.

That realization broke Jack’s control, and he covered her mouth with his. She swallowed his groan and returned the kiss, both of her feet rising to hook behind him as he began to thrust, harder and with purpose, his hips slapping against hers as he took what she so willingly gave. 

Setting his fists on the bed beside her shoulders, he lifted his torso away from hers, his back arching. Her hands slid from his hair to his chest, her fingers curling against him so that her nails bit half-moons into his skin. Jack watched her face as he worked over her, and he was not disappointed. Her pale cheeks flushed, her mouth opening so that her teeth gleamed white against the smear of her lipstick, her eyes heavy-lidded. 

Her hands slid around his body to grasp his waist, leaving fire in their wake. The pricking of her nails at the small of his back was more intense than it had been on his chest, and he sped up, thrusting harder and faster, wanting to hear her call his name—wanting her to scream it as she came. As he moved, his eyes trailed down her body to her breasts, soft and small, their tightly furled nipples jouncing with each of his thrusts. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, and shifted to one side so that he could slide a hand over one of her breasts, stopping its motion, her nipple caught in the web between his thumb and forefinger. Pushing deep inside her, he paused, hips pulsing and his pelvis compressing her clit, to dip his head and lick her nipple into his mouth, suckling strongly. 

Phryne’s nails dug into his back as she came, her heels pressing into the backs of his thighs and cries of his name ringing around the room. Jack could feel the muscular pulses of her orgasm along his cock; helplessly, he began to thrust again, pushing away from her breast to give himself room. His head drooped, heavy on his neck, and Phryne wrapped her hands around his shoulders to lift herself up and press her forehead to his.

“Come, Jack,” she whispered, her lips and tongue brushing his without deepening the kiss. She stroked a hand up the back of his neck and into his hair again, making a fist. Gripping tightly, she pulled his head up, drawing a groan from him as she growled, “Come. Now.”

The orgasm broke from him with a shout, and his hips pressed tightly into hers as his release pulsed out in hot bursts. His hand on her breast convulsed, squeezing, and Phryne cried out as a third, smaller climax made her clench around him.

His muscles relaxing in a rush, Jack exhaled heavily and dropped back down, propping his elbows on the bed so that he didn’t squash her. Her hold on his hair gentled, becoming a soft stroking as his lips tenderly met hers.

“I’m glad you’re here, Jack,” Phryne whispered, as she brushed her lips against his.

“I didn’t arrange a place to stay,” he whispered back. “Think you could put me up until I can find a flat?”

“Mmm, definitely, though the rent will be steep.” Her smile was sly, and the hand that wasn’t stroking his hair slid down his back to grip his bottom. 

Jack tilted his head at her, then dipped it to kiss her again, pushing his pelvis up against hers. Even though he’d softened after release, his cock was still warmly resting within her, and the pressure on her already sensitized flesh turned her smirk into a laughing gasp.

“I trust that you’ll make it worth my while.” 

“Well, he’s no Mr. Butler, but Mr. Jarvis’s scones have been coming along wonderfully since you left. And his trifle is top notch.” Phryne’s voice was breathless, and her tone was teasing. “But to earn trifle, you’ll have to do exceptional work.”

“Does three orgasms count as exceptional, Miss Fisher?” Jack pulsed his hips against her again, feeling himself, remarkably, beginning to harden. After seven months without her and only his own hand—mostly—for release, he shouldn’t have been surprised that she could bring him back so quickly. 

“Three is more than acceptable, inspector, but I like to see you stretch yourself occasionally.” Her voice rose on the last word as he proved with a simple circling motion of his hips that he was willing and able to stretch rather a lot. “Jack!” Her fingers in his hair gripped again, and the hand on his ass pressed him closer.

“Yes, Miss Fisher?” He dipped his head to run the flat of his tongue across her nipple as he began again to thrust inside her.

“If I’d known that the promise of trifle would make you so very determined,” she said, her smile flashing brightly, “I would have brought it up before.”

“Every man has a price,” Jack said against her breast, as she pushed to roll him onto his back so that she could rise above him. “I’m rather pleased that you’ve found mine.”

“Oh, I’m pleased too, Jack,” Phryne said, as she began to rise and fall over him. “Now, let’s see how much credit we can get you against the rent, shall we?”

“Whatever you say, Miss Fisher,” he said, his mouth stretching with a satisfied smile of his own. “Whatever you say.”


End file.
